Now, Always, and Forever
by Pseudo-Morals
Summary: Ten years after the Slade shooting stunt, Curt decides to pay “Tommy” a little visit.


_Title_:  Now, Always, and Forever

_Author_: Pseudo-Morals

_Genre_: Velvet Goldmine

_Category_: Romance

_Rating_: NC-17

_Feedback_: xwhytherum@aol.com

_Archive?:_ Sure, but who'd want it?

_Summary_: Ten years after the Slade shooting stunt, Curt decides to pay "Tommy" a little visit.

I'd been watching the concert. No matter what I had said to Arthur, or rather, what I hadn't said, I had been there. Listening to the man who called himself Tommy Stone weave his spell over the audience. The same seductive spell he'd put on London so many years ago.   
  
As I left the bar, I briefly wondered what would become of Arthur. My Arthur. I still considered him mine, just as I did many others; I had stolen his innocence, both of us helpless, held captive by the beauty of the night sky and the dreams, the possibilities of what could happen now that glitter was dead.   
  
Arthur surely had my pin now, I'd slipped it into his drink while he was distracted and trusted he'd not waste beer. "For your image," I had told him. But what of mine? I kept walking, back to the finished show, looking for something I should have found long ago. No one stopped me, I suppose they assumed I had a purpose. Why would they question an old, faded star? I halted. The door read 'Tommy Stone', and beneath that, his logo, the double-pronged T. I knocked lightly, and after a pause, the door opened a bit and my foot slipped into the unoccupied space between it and the doorjamb.   
  
"Curt." It was Shannon. I'd have recognized her anywhere, but God, how she had changed. That slender, perfectly shaped face was still intact, pale and softly curved, but her hair was fashioned into the women's bob of the era, the one that was supposed to be all the rage. A pinstriped suit, too. She seemed to be caught somewhere between mod and rocker, just like the long ago form of the man I was seeking out tonight.   
  
"Shannon." I responded with equal calmness, my voice soft and even. "I'm here to see...Tommy.." I finished quietly after a moment's pause, looking past her into the room.   
  
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid he's not taking visitors this evening."   
  
"Yes, yes he is," I insisted, pushing against the door with enough force to startle her, hoping she would be caught off-guard. Shannon moved back to avoid being hit, and the door banged against the wall as it flew fully open.   
  
I looked around quickly, and I didn't see Brian, but Shannon fled through a side door, and after a moment, she reappeared. He was at her side; I assumed she had summoned him.   
  
"Curt.." he said, almost in awe, a tinge of boyish wonder in his voice. I nodded and he turned to Shannon. "You should leave."   
  
"But I-"   
  
"Go."   
  
She did, slinking out of the room in a feline manner, a sullen expression crossing her face. She pulled the door behind her, and as soon as it clicked into place, Brian turned to me.   
  
"Curt, you look great."   
  
"You don't," I replied, meaning it. He looked awful, and I could see it, even if he was blind to how horrible he had become. What had once been a clean, finely-angled face was covered in more makeup than he was ever intended to wear, his beautiful hazel eyes were hidden behind tacky eyeshadow and false lashes. Playing one's appearance up for the crowd was one thing, but how could he not see that he had taken it too far?   
  
His expression fell, tentative smile fading to a pained grimace, his eyes lowered, gaze falling upon the hardwood floor. I reached out instinctively, fingertips grazing over the curve of his jaw. He lifted his stare to glance up at me, questioningly.   
  
"I'm sorry..I didn't mean.." Damn him. I had worked so hard to put on this facade, the devil-may-care attitude that I had adopted was just starting to feel natural again without his constant presence beside me as friend, lover, and stage device. And here he was, making me stammer, making me hesitate, as though I was once again a schoolboy, caught in a lie.   
  
"Yes, you did. But it's alright." He smiled again, the slight hint of amusement curving his full lips upward at the edges. I pulled my hand back as if I had been burned, eyes blazing with an odd combination of scorn and affection. "I should probably take off the makeup now, anyway. The show's over," he added at a low volume, almost seeming to wait for my approval.   
  
On a whim, I nodded briefly. "I'll do it. You can't seem to put it on well, yourself. At least let me get rid of your mistake for you." Looking around, I spotted a dish of water. Dipping the nearby cloth into the water, I brought it to his face slowly. With one slow, soft wipe, I glanced down at the scrap of fabric and at the hideous array of colors smeared thereon. Continuing to clean his face for him, my eyes softened as I looked at him.   
  
"I told you, a long time ago, that you were made of ivory and gold - you still are. Why do you hide behind all this?" I gestured to the makeup, the lie he had been living, with an all-encompassing jerk of my head.   
  
"That's always been my way, Curt," he replied with a wistful sigh. And I realized then that he was right. He had always been the liar, albeit a glamorous one, existing behind a brightly colored mask while I watched and walked beside him, faithful to him in spirit, for the most part. I had known the real Brian Slade, the boy - no, the man - who lived an extraordinary life beyond the realms of his inane persona Maxwell Demon.   
  
I didn't reply, but I was sure he knew I agreed with him. Setting the cloth back in the now murky water, I stepped away from him to look for a seat. Finding one amidst the soft cushions of a small couch, I settled down. He sat across from me at the opposite end of the sofa, one leg bent and drawn to his chest. It was intriguing how, a little over ten years after our split, that he was still so much the same. He had aged, yes, and the fine lines around his eyes and mouth were far more prominent now, but it was all so familiar. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the childish way he nibbled at his bottom lip when he was nervous - I remembered it all, and hated myself for ever having let it go to begin with.   
  
"I missed you," he said after a while, and my eyes flickered upward to lock with his. He kept going, all traces of previous awkwardness seeming to vanish. "I hated not being able to tell you that my death was all a ruse, I really did..I wanted to ring you, but Shannon said it wasn't a good idea."   
  
"Do you always do what Shannon tells you?" It wasn't meant in a harsh or accusatory manner, but I realized too late that it could be taken as such. Fortunately, he didn't appear phased or at all offended.   
  
"Yes."   
  
It had been so long since something had truly tugged at my heart, I'd grown hardened over the years since Brian, but my lower lip caught between my teeth and I frowned. What had happened to the Brian I'd known? The one who did whatever he pleased, without giving so much as a thought to the people who tried to stand in his way? That woman had broken his will and spirit, I decided, and I'd have to deal with that later. But other things had to happen now.   
  
"God, I'm-"   
  
He cut me off. "Damnit. Sometimes I really do wonder if I'm still alive. I wrote it in one of my songs, Curt, but even then I never imagined I would actually be penning a prophecy.."   
  
"You are alive." I said it without thinking, an immediate reaction, one of soft reassurance. I passed a hand over my hair idly, fingers working through it, combing, knowing without seeing the contrast of light gold against pale skin.   
  
"But how do I know for sure?" He was nervous now, biting his lip in that charming way of his, and in that split second, the one between the exhalation as the word 'sure' left those lips, and the one between the sudden racing of my heart, I was drawn to him. For all that time that we'd been together, I had wanted him, and I had shown him just how much, in every way and place possible. But that had been pure animal lust, fueled by the knowledge that he was mine, inside and out, for as long as I kept him at my side.   
  
And this was different. Now I was in limbo, not knowing if he would be here tomorrow, if I would see him again, and my stomach turned over with an exhilerating rush. My eyes widened and I leaned in, nose almost brushing against his, my voice a mere whisper.   
  
"I'll make you sure." I kissed him then, my lips finding his, tentatively at first, then with more insistence as my own confidence grew. One hand lifted to cup his cheek, the pad of my thumb brushing across the bridge of his nose, down and across that slight hollow beneath his closed eye. I could feel the spidery sensation of his long eyelashes tickling at the curve of my traveling thumb; my own eyes drifted closed.   
  
He deepened the kiss, just as I had hoped he would - I could never know for sure with Brian - and my tongue delved past his parted lips, sliding against his in a silent battle for dominance. The room seemed hotter than it had been before, my skin tingling as his arm extended to loop around my waist. I pulled back, eyes opening to gaze at him.   
  
"Curt.." he said after a moment, hazel eyes seeming to search my face.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
He didn't answer me, and looked almost hesitant, as if wondering how to say what he had intended. Instead of waiting, I smiled and spoke in a hushed tone.   
  
"Do you want this?"   
  
"More sure than anything."   
  
It was all the encouragement I needed, and he knew that, his hands reaching down to the hem of his shirt and tugging it upwards, over his head, letting it fall in a crumpled heap on the floor. Without a further word, he unbuttoned his pants - God, they seemed to be sewn onto him - and slowly undid the zipper, pushing them down past his hips and legs. He stepped out of them, and away. Meeting my eyes, he smirked in silence and bent forward, body inclining over the arm of the couch, hands lacing before him, resting lightly on the cushions.   
  
He had remembered, which surprised me. He had remembered that I was always in command of these endeavors, he never could have control, which others seemed to consider a flaw - but not Brian. He never protested, always doing what I requested. I licked my lips quickly, eyes closing for a minute as I slipped out of my own pants - the navy leather ones, Brian had always adored them, I recalled; maybe I unconsciously had planned on meeting him when I dressed.   
  
The only sound in the room was that of our breathing, and I moved to meet him, my body leaning over his, fitting perfectly. We always had been that way, like puzzle pieces, in everything, but especially in the bedroom. My lips sought out the pale skin of his shoulder as I entered him slowly, feeling him tense beneath me with a soft sigh.   
  
He adjusted quickly, though less so than usual, I assumed he hadn't had a male lover in awhile, though the reason for that was beyond me. He had never had a problem with finding partners, no matter if they were girls or boys. After a moment, we began our dance, the one that we'd practiced over and over, even after we'd gotten it right, perfectly synchronized. I placed soft kisses over the expanse of his back, up to the junction of throat and shoulder, intermittingly nipping.   
  
I had missed this, more than I would ever admit to him. And not only the sex, though it was always amazing. I missed him, having him near me, a confidant, a friend, even if we didn't talk and only smoked together. I reached down, finding what he needed beneath our moving bodies, hand closing around him, wrist flicking in time to the motion of my hips.   
  
He called for me, and I bit my lip to keep from grinning, from replying, from making a sound. Why was it that everyone who had ever said my name never had the same effect that he did? No matter why he spoke for me, whether in affection, pleasure, passion, anger, or sadness - it had always inspired various emotions that no one else could never evoke.   
  
After a few moments more, the quiet interrupted every so often by hushed cries, it was over, and far too soon. With one last purr, I could feel Brian's tension leave him, the muscles of his shoulder uncoiling and unknotting as he fell back against me, body shaking, legs weakened. I leaned against him for support, the fireworks exploding behind my tightly closed eyelids, biting my lip so hard that I could taste the salty, metallic flavor of blood.   
  
I stilled all motions, relaxing against him for a second before withdrawing, pulling back and out entirely. Reluctantly. I'd left the one place where it felt right, where it was amazing. He lay there against the arm of the couch for a short while, then he stood and turned to face me, eyes still darkened, pupils dilated, a sheen of sweat glistening over his pale skin.   
  
"That was.."   
  
"...wonderful," I finished for him, smiling softly.   
  
He nodded slowly, and I held my arms out, beckoning him forward. I was struck by the sudden irony of it - we'd made love before we'd even hugged. But no matter, we would do it now, and make up for time lost.   
  
He approached readily, coming to rest against me, and my arms folded around him, hands resting on his back. "God, I.."   
  
I waited for him to say it, watching him. He tilted his head upward to look at me.   
  
"I love you, Curt."   
  
"And I, you, Brian."   
  
"I..it's Tommy." He turned his head, tearing his gaze away. One hand left his back and rose to capture his chin, turning it back to face me.   
  
Firmly, I shook my head. "Not Tommy. Brian Slade. Now, always, and forever."   
  
I pulled him close to me, then, his head tilted, cheek resting on my shoulder. I leaned in to kiss the top of his head and held him. Just as I had wanted to do for ten lonely years.


End file.
